


Old Debts

by Writing_In_Denial



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adds stuff, Adopted Children, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Artistic Liberties, Baby Yoda has more emotional wisdom than Din, Baby Yoda will actually get a name, Bad Writing, Din has another kid to take care of, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Sensitive OC, Gen, He has no idea what to do with another kid, I'm Bad At Tagging, Literally a dumpster fire, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Culture, No Romance, Sorta follows with main story, garbage, non-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 15:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_In_Denial/pseuds/Writing_In_Denial
Summary: The elderly Ugnaught tilted his head, looking up from the blurrg he was feeding. He gave a strange look when he saw the Mandalorian toting along a smaller younger counterpart at his side. "Ah, developing a bit of a collection I see." He remarked, with no small amount of amusement as he stared at the Mandalorian child."It's only temporary." He insisted bluntly. "Consider it old debts in the process of being repaid."
Relationships: Din Djarin & Kuiil, Din Djarin & OC, Din Djarin & The Child, The Mandolorian & OC, The Mandolorian & The Child
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	Old Debts

Winds hissed across the scorched canyon rifts, providing minimal relief from the boiling sun above. The Mandalorian's beskar provided coverage against the UV radiation, though not from the sweltering heat underneath his helmet. With a hiss of annoyance as cables spark and crackle, he mentally curses the Jawas and tries to fix the malfunctioning wires in his ship's console with no small amount of annoyance. 

  
It is not long before he hears the Ugnaught step into the Razor Crest, without hearing the whirr of the carrier, he turns to see the child asleep in the Ugnaught's arms. It's been that way ever since the encounter Mudhorn. Upon sensing Din's question, the elder shook his head. "He hasn't been up for long. Just enough for me to feed him." He then looked at the console. "Any luck here yet?" The elderly man asks. 

  
Just as he is about to respond, Din manages to get the cables to snap back together, and the console lights up. The Ugnaught gives a derisive snort as the child's carrier float up beside him. He carefully sets the small green being down inside. "I guess that answers my own question."  
Upon seeing a message on the ship's console, the Mandalorian dips his head some. He wasn't expecting contact from the client, nor anyone else for that matter. He debates about it for a moment, before realizing the ship's signature it originated from is one that he recognizes. The Invictus II. Pressing the button, a blue image crackles to life of a young Mandalorian. 

  
"Su cuy'gar. My name is Ter, a foundling of the Asota clan. My keeper Viska Asota gave me a protocol in case she ever went missing on a bounty...and I think the worst has happened. You are one of the few people that she trusts, also one of the few people who owes her a favor too. So, I ask you to make good on your word and help me find my mother. Please." After that, the transmission ended with a click. 

  
"What was that?" The elderly Ugnaught asks as Din clicks on the coordinates of the original transmission, it was a system wide alert rather than a galactic one. Which meant that they were in the same star system. Orra, a nearby planet to Arvala-7 that orbited the same star. A reclusive jungle planet with two moons. 

  
Giving a small tilt of his helmet, he replied. "A distress signal. It was sent not to long ago." There was no debate on whether he was going to go. He had to. Viska has saved his own life once, it was only fair he finally returns the favor. Drumming his gloved fingers against the console, he mentally debates when his ship will be in good enough condition to fly. "I need to go." 

  
"No offense, Mando. But your ship is lucky to lift off the ground yet, let alone leave the atmosphere." The Mandolorian gave a noncommittal grunt. "Though I guess you already knew that." 

  
Turning on his heel to the ship's main computer, he did a systems scan. Weapons were still needing repairs, and the hull wasn't pressure proof. Though everything else seemed to be mostly in working order. "Two galactic days. I can have it in minimal working order." He turned to the Ugnaught. "I'll need your help." 

  
The older man gave a nod of a head. "Well you have it. Let's get to work on this scrap pile."

* * *

* * *

He didn't feel right, leaving the child alone, even with the Ugnaught. His bounty and reputation rode on the fact that the child remain alive. The droid from earlier, coupled with the attack- signaled that many still wanted the child dead for whatever reason. Though the elderly male assured him that he would be safe until he got back, and oddly enough- the Mandalorian trusted him. 

  
He supposes he'll have to wait to see if his trust was misplaced. 

  
Take-off was bumpier than usual, and so was the descent on Orra. The atmosphere was thick, and the newly repaired hull was red hot by the time it reached the ground. Though everything remained stable, Din would have to remember to praise the Ugnaught's handiwork. 

  
Landing a mile or so from the signal's origin in a clearing, he hiked the rest of the way. It was dark in the cycle by the time he saw the Invictus II. Both moons out in the sky as he walked up to the ship. His blaster was drawn as he warily stepped up to the entrance ramp. 

  
There was a hiss as the entrance depressurized. The docking ramp lowered. 

  
"Hey!" Bringing up his blaster, the youngling from the message raised his hands. Based by his height alone, he seemed young. Perhaps ten or so. He wore a red and gold helmet, the yellow visor glowing under the fluorescent lights of the ship. He wore brown frayed robes over what seemed to be leather armor. Despite his original startled demeanor, a boyish excitement clung to him, gauging by the way he subtly bounced on the balls of his feet. Lowering the blaster reluctantly, the boy sighed in relief. "I kinda was wondering if you were going to shoot me there for a second. I'm glad you're here." Naïve, probably just started his vows into the Creed. Probably didn't even have a year of proper training on him.

  
Sheathing the blaster at his side, he stepped up to the ramp. The foundling moving aside where he could step into the ship. "How long has Viska been gone?" He asked bluntly as the foundling pressed the door controls, the door hissing shut behind them. 

  
"Two galactic standard weeks. Her job was supposed to take one." He answered, worrying his gloved hands. "Do you think-?" 

  
The older Mandalorian didn't bother mincing his words. "If she's been that long without contact, she's probably injured or dead." 

  
"Yeah, I figured." The boy muttered with a slump to his shoulders. He then pulled out a guild fob from his bandolier, handing it to Din. "Here, this is the bounty details." The older Mandalorian took the fob, pressing the button. A holograph, of a male Twi'lek with orange skin with dark tattoos appeared. "She tracked him down to this planet, he was rumored to have a facility here. He builds droids." The younger Mandalorian shrugged. "That's all I really know." 

  
He made an irritated noise at the mention of droids, though reluctantly Din gave a nod. "It's a start." He settled. Putting the guild fob away. "Where's the location of the facility she was heading to?" 

  
The boy gestured a thumb back towards the cockpit of the ship. "She has it in the main computer, you're welcome to-"The older Mandalorian briskly walked past the other. "Okay-er... make yourself at home then." He dropped his hand uselessly.

  
Din sat in the pilot seat, it still looked exactly how he'd remembered it from the last time he saw it. Glancing over at the co-pilot seat, he remembers being in that very spot; bleeding to death.

* * *

> _"So, looks like you owe me one now." The woman remarked, and despite not seeing her facial expressions, Din knew it couldn't be anything but smug under her beskar._
> 
> _He pressed his hand to the gaping wound in his side, the smell of blaster charred flesh filling the cabin. "Why should I owe you one, when every minute you're out here you're risking our order. You know the Creed. Secrecy is the way, only one of us above ground at a time."_
> 
> _"I've never been much of a rule follower. Besides, one rouge Mandalorian isn't going to send things spiraling into chaos. Not unless I do something really stupid, like pissing off the wrong people." She hummed as she flipped a few switches on the ship's console. Auto-pilot being initiated. "Which you already seem adept at, I applaud you."_
> 
> _He gave a small grunt, pressing harder on his wound as fresh blood seeped from the hole. "You've lost the way." He accused._
> 
> _She tapped her helmet. "My beskar is my fortress, which has remained steadfast through all my years. I haven't lost the way-- I am just traveling a different path in the same direction." She leveled a stare at him, quietly analyzing him for a few moments. "I'm sure you'll understand. One day. Now, lets get you some bacta on that wound."_

* * *

Falling out of the memory, he shook his helmet silently- as if to physically dislodge the memories. Turning his helmet back towards the ship's terminal, he opened one of Viska's final ship logs before she went dark. Getting the coordinates, he closed the terminal and stood. The foundling hovering behind him with an anxious tilt to his own helmet. "So?" He questioned.

  
"If she's alive, I'll find her." The older Mandalorian didn't want to give the foundling too much hope. A standard galactic week is a long time to be missing for a bounty hunter. "Stay put." He warned, before going back towards the docking ramp. 

  
"I'm not a dog. I can come with you, I can help." Ter insisted, his footsteps pattering after the older Mandalorian's longer strides. 

  
Din didn't even glance back as he opened the access ramp. "No." He asserted, and when the foundling went to argue, it was then that he turned towards the younger. The body language was more than enough to indicate he wasn't going to budge on the subject matter. "Stay." He repeated. "I'll be back soon." 

  
"Fine." The younger Mandalorian muttered under his breath, saying something else that wasn't caught by the voice modulator of his helmet. Din didn't miss the way the boy's shoulders were set in a tight anxious line, he just preferred to ignore it.

  
It was time to repay old debts.


End file.
